


Soap & Seed

by QueenCurphy



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bathroom Sex, Bathtubs, Breathplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lust, Marking, Master/Servant, Oral Sex, Pubic Hair, Scents & Smells, Teasing, Undressing, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCurphy/pseuds/QueenCurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lo-" you hesitate, for it is not your place to address him so informally. </p><p>His head resurfaces for a moment, eyes piercing yours, "Say it." </p><p>"Loki." His name leaves your throat in a soft purr, and he responds with a sharp lick to your nipple.</p><p>"Gah! Loki, please." You beg; you're not even sure what you're pleading for as he continues his slow torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soap & Seed

You're one of Asgard's loyal servers, so loyal in fact, that you had been appointed as a royal servant. It's a chilly November morning, you're roaming the halls of the royal quarters, waiting for your next orders. 

"Darling." 

You turn in a split second, bowing toward the calm, cold voice you've come to know so well.

"Yes, my Prince?"

"I wish to bathe, now."

He often addresses you as 'darling', when he's in a pleasant mood; it's a word that when rolls from his tongue, sends shivers down your spine. He's always so polite and respectful towards you, he's so unlike his brute of an older brother. You sometimes let your mind run wild and imagine that the dark haired prince is quite fond of you. You wonder if this is why he chose you as his personal handmaiden some months back, when he came of age. You usually laugh the idea off with a shake of your head; the future King would not fall for a common maid like yourself.

You nod your head, bowing again as you reply, "Of course, my Lord." You glide past him, feeling that strange, cool air that surrounds him brushing your face and arms. 

The royal bathing rooms are much more splendid and magnificent than your own wash room, with its golden archways and enormous baths that sink into the marble floors; you start to fill one of them with oils and hot water. You feel his presence before you hear him; he stands by the doorway, his intense, emerald eyes burn into your back. You do not speak, until you have filled the deep bath with lavender and vanilla scented water; his favourite concoction. You finally turn to him, for it is of great importance that you always look at royalty when you speak to them.

"I will fetch your towels, my Lord; do you require anything else?" 

He watches you, a crude yet handsome smile creeps so smoothly onto his pale face.

"I would like you to undress me, darling."

You are taken aback by his bold request; for he has never needed help with something as intimate before, once in a while you had helped Loki with his armour before training, and you had heard of Thor's inability to dress and undress himself, but the younger prince had always been so private. You courtesy, stumbling on your toes when his hand wraps around your shoulder; he has a strong grip behind those gorgeous, slender fingers.

"You need not bow and lower your head to me, every time you speak." He husks.

"It is my duty to do so, my Prince, I am to show you the upmost of respect." 

"Maybe, my sweet darling, there are other ways in which you can show me as such." His voice drops an octave, into a growl; his hand slipping down your shoulder to lightly stroke your breast.

As a servant, you were required to train in 'body service'; a much classier term for a prostitute. You had never needed to put those skills to use, Loki had never asked for it, to your secret disappointment. As you stand before him, his elegant and curious hands caressing your most sensitive parts, his mouth moves dangerously close you your trembling lips.

"I will not demand anything from you, I do not want to take anything against your will. I require an answer from you, dear maiden; the sooner the better."

You don't even pause to measure the consequences in your mind before your mouth is muttering "Yes." against his thin lips. 

The smile on his angular jaw curves into a wicked grin; his hand pawing at your breasts with more courage.

"Will you undress me, slowly? Would you trace every inch of my exposed skin with your perfect lips, as I will for you when it is my turn?"

Your voice croaks under immense nervousness and arousal; you want nothing more than to feel the beautiful son of Odin upon every part of your being. He snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, his breath blowing cold onto your neck, he sets a painfully slow pattern of zig zags and lines down your skin, his tongue and teeth licking and nipping to your clavicle, then back up to your jawline. The fear of being caught starts to build more pressure in your core, your moans and whines spill out quietly and cautiously; he notices your attempts of hushed pleasure and bites down harder below your ear.

"Don't be shy, sweet; let me hear you."

Your cheeks burn pink as a particularly high pitched mewl leaves your throat; you feel him smile against your skin before kissing over the trail of wet he's created. As his mouth leaves your throat, you make haste to comply with his request; you ease your way from his grasp, hands resting on the top buttons of his tunic. 

Loki watches you falter for a moment, before pushing forward into your touch, "Rid me of these clothes, so I may get my hands on your divine body."

Your ribs expand as the air traps itself in your lungs; everything feels so forbidden and yet so right. Your fingers get to work, slowly popping open each metal button until his milky white chest is exposed; a light dusting of dark hairs stretches over his broad chest, his stomach tenses and you catch sight of the muscle there. You are pleasantly surprised by his stature, given that he looks so slender and dainty when hidden beneath his clothing. Your hands bravely run up his naked torso, pulling a gasp and shudder from the Prince, you grip gently to the fabric at his shoulders and push the garment off, letting it slip to the floor. Your attention moves south, and your thighs clench involuntarily as you anticipate peeling the tight, leather leggings from his ridiculously long legs. 

"I said you need not bow," he starts, as you sink to your knees, "Oh. Ohh."

His hands automatically reach for your head as you nuzzle at the thick bulge trapped behind the cold leather; he thrusts forward ever so lightly, fingers tightening in your hair.

"What has transformed my quiet little mouse into a tigress?" He asks with a groan.

"Desire, my Lord. Desire and the permission to act out my fantasies." Your new found boldness excites you, and evidently, Loki too.

You untie the fastening, working the material down over his hips; the bones there protrude just enough for your teeth to worship, which you do for a moment. The fingers in your head begin to massage your scalp, and you hear short, sharp puffs of breath above you; it makes you dizzy to know that he genuinely enjoys your mouth on him. You continue to pull down the dark green leather, only to stop again a second later when his length is released and it hits your cheek on it's accent to his stomach. 

"I find under garments constricting." He huffs with a laugh, like he felt the need to explain himself.

You make the quick decision to leave his leggings bunched at his thighs as you stroke the flat of your tongue up the length of his solid cock, his musky flavour explodes on your taste buds, followed by the delicious salty hint of his excitement as your lips ghost the head. He hums his approval, hands still playing idly in your curls. The surreality of the situation is diminished as you inhale his heady scent with your nose buried in his raven-black curls, it is so very real, every bit of it; it isn't a dream, you are not alone in your chamber this time, your hands bringing you to your completion. He is here, in the flesh, giving you full consent to worship him. Leaving a light kiss upon his thigh, you drag the heavy material down to the top of his boots; one of his hands leaves your head to wave lazily beside your shoulder, and the boots dissolve away in sparks of green. 

His magic, no matter how many times you have witnessed it, has always blown your mind.

With one final tug, he steps gracefully out of the leggings, leaving him naked and exposed before you. You sit back on your heels, breaking the contact between you both, to take in the beautiful sight in front of you; he stands deadly still, looking down at you through thick lashes.

"Come, dove." 

Your eyes fixate on his as you stand, his arm outstretched as he beckons you closer; you follow his lead, entwining your small fingers with his much larger ones. He walks you to the edge of the bath, the steam from the water rises to warm your face.

"Let me unravel you, and you shall be the greatest gift I ever received."

"I am but a mere commoner in comparison to the beautiful women I imagine you've bedded." It was not supposed to sound as bitter as it did, and you regret it instantly.

Loki cups your face with his wide palms, fingers stroking behind your ears as he blesses you with another crooked smile; an expression that is so naive and yet so dangerous.

"It is true, I have had my share of maidens and warriors, but I will not have you speak that way; you have stirred something deep within me for many months now. On this day, I will make you mine, and I will show you just how incorrect your self doubts are."

His voice drips like honey, drowning out all other senses as you let his mouth graze your bottom lip. He keeps your mouth busy in a slow, languid kiss, his tongue rolling against yours as his hands run down to the lace of your blouse. He does not stall, and within seconds, your breasts are exposed to the open air; it takes him another second to lower his head and envelope one sensitive bud in his mouth, your eyes close as your head rolls onto your shoulder, the sensation he creates heats the pool in your stomach.

"Lo-" you hesitate, for it is not your place to address him so informally. 

His head resurfaces for a moment, eyes piercing yours, "Say it." 

"Loki." His name leaves your throat in a soft purr, and he responds with a sharp lick to your nipple.

"Gah! Loki, please." You beg; you're not even sure what you're pleading for as he continues his slow torture.

His hands drift down, passing the hem of your skirt; he grabs a handful of the material and ruffles the skirt up over so he can roll his hips and press his erection to your naked thigh. Instead of easily pulling the skirt down, he drags it impatiently over your head and disposes of it, the intensity is rising, along with his need; you aid him in his haste, wriggling out of your panties and kicking them aside. His mouth crashes into yours again, this time with more urgency, you pant against each other, both of you as naked as the day you were born. 

"Beautiful, intoxicating woman; I can't explain what you do to me." He growls, eyes glistening with lust, "Into the water with you."

You have to drag yourself away from his hold, stepping into the water via the marble ledges, your body submerging in wonderfully scented heat. He watches your every move before following you, wading through the water with such elegance. He pulls you to him again, walking you backwards until your backside hits the edge of the bath; he presses himself flush against you, making you loose your breath momentarily. 

"I need to feel your cunt around me, more than I need my next breath." 

You gasp at his wanton remark, and even more so at his regal mouth speaking such crude words. He smirks against your heaving chest and toys his tongue into your cleavage; he thrusts his hips lazily and fluidly, hitting your mound with the tip of his cock. You feel lightheaded, too far gone in the whirlwind he creates; you desperately need him to open you up and fill you to the hilt. When Loki groans and bites your flesh playfully, you realise that your last thought had fallen from your mouth in a hoarse plea. 

"And that is exactly what I'll do, little dove."

He takes your thigh in hand, hooking your leg effortlessly around his waist.

"Elbows on the edge, and arch that gorgeous back for me."

Your arms stretch back, and with the help of the deep water you hold your weight by your elbows, curving your spine to give yourself a better angle; Loki sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, taking his fierce erection in hand, teasing the tight bundle of nerves within your folds with his blunt head. With a long and torturous roll of his narrow hips, he completely fills you, stretching you like no one has ever before; drawn out sighs of eventual relief call out in unison. He gives you a fraction of a moment to become accustomed to his generous size before picking up a steady pace of deep thrusts. Along with his girth, the water entering you with his every rut makes you feel entirely stuffed; pressure builds in your stomach, a tight knot that only grows tighter and thicker. 

Loki's hands move again, exploring your curved hips, tracing up your ribs to snake around your throat loosely. He lifts his head from your shoulder, eyes seeking permission.

"Yes. Loki, yes."

His fingers tighten with every thrust, until you're sure his digits will leave bruises; your head tilts back, exposing more of your jugular to him, silently asking for more. His speed increases, his hips bucking into you shallow and sharp; his grip on your neck is dangerously strong, bringing a white light into the corners of your vision. 

"You put your life into my hands, so willingly. Tell me, does your impending climax taste better than your nearing death?" 

You can't answer, your throat is completely closed; your core burning and the knot so close to snapping. The marble bites into your back as he fucks into you with fury, you can feel the twinges and vibrations as far up as your chest as he impales you mercilessly; you are so close, so, so close.

"Come for me, darling. Come all over my cock." 

In that instant, you loose all control of your body as the pressure in your stomach snaps like elastic; your body spasms, the leg around Loki cramps deliciously as you pull him impossibly closer. The impact of your orgasm mingles with the lack of oxygen in your lungs; as Loki finally unlatches from your throat, you suck in all the air you can get and release it in a howling scream of his name. With one last buck into your soaked and slick heat, Loki comes hard inside you, thick ropes of his seed coating your contracting walls; he tries to mask his sounds of pleasure by piercing his teeth into your shoulder, but you still hear every lurid and animalistic grunt. 

Minutes pass as you bring your arms around him, he pants into your collarbone, his cock softening inside you until it slips free. You're both too spent to move, to speak or to even breathe without effort; the reek of sex rises with the steam, covering your bodies.

"Loki, my Lord. You have broken me." You manage to croak after a while.

"Well then, I must put you back together, piece by piece with my fingers and tongue; so I can break you again and again." He whispers hoarsely into your sweat sheen skin.


End file.
